


Overseeing

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:55:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21542602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Bilbo writes in the winter.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins & Lindir
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	Overseeing

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Rivendell is an incredibly lovely place, even in the winter—it gets just about as much snow as The Shire did, but it falls more evenly, and the elves are very diligent about cleaning it up. It’s still easy enough to wander through into the gardens, the crushed snow cold beneath his bare feet, but a little cold could never keep Bilbo Baggins down. He’s survived living fire, so the chilly wind is really nothing, even when it sinks into his bones and tries to shoo him off inside. Bilbo doesn’t listen. Hobbits are hardy folk, and he won’t be deterred from his favourite writing spot. He does notice that there are less elves in the gardens than there are in the springtime, but that only means he’ll get his work done faster. He likes most elves well enough, especially Lord Elrond’s folk, but they do tend to distract him when he’s trying to work on his book. 

He hunkers down on a frozen-over bench tucked in amongst the buried roses, and he sets up his quill and ink, hoping to get some words down before it turns to ice. He piles up the pages in his lap and sets to work, scrawling down anything and everything that comes to mind. When he was younger, he used to be fussier about it. He would mull over each word to make sure it was perfect. Now that he’s older, wiser, and in a place of constant beauty, Bilbo simply lets the words tumble out of him. He fills the page up in a steady stream of wistful sentences and budding paragraphs, until he’s blown through an entire chapter without even realizing it. Then he takes a quick break to concoct new lyrics for a song.

“Bilbo?”

His head rises, and an elf is standing there, a kindly one that Bilbo’s taken quite a liking too. Lindir is technically Lord Elrond’s attendant, but he spends plenty of time in the gardens, playing his harp or poring over songs with Bilbo, and always asking to read Bilbo’s thrilling tales. Bilbo does love a good audience. 

But he also enjoys his freedom, and Lindir tends to fret over him worse than his own mother ever did. Lindir sighs, “You must be freezing,” and before Bilbo can even answer, Lindir is leaning over to wrap a thick scarf around his shoulders. Bilbo huffs but accepts the fussing, because he knows it’ll be quicker to just take it than to try and chase Lindir away. When the scarf’s secure and Bilbo’s sufficiently bundled up, Lindir adds, “I do wish you would let me find you something for your feet.”

“Nonsense,” Bilbo insists. “These feet have been up mountains far colder than this!”

Lindir hums like he doesn’t doubt it, but he’s still concerned, because he’s a sweet boy who believes in taking care of his elders, even though he’s surely much older than Bilbo is. Lindir tries, “Will you not come in and sit by the fire? I cold bring you tea...”

“And I could wither away at my own hearth,” Bilbo chuckles, “But that’s not why I set forth again! Besides, the next verse is already in my mind, and I have a mind to write it down.”

Lindir slumps but nods his acceptance. He pats away some of the snow and joins Bilbo on the bench, apparently determined to see that he doesn’t freeze to death. That’s perfectly fine—Bilbo’s used to the welcome company of other races.

He returns to jotting down his every thought, and eventually, Lindir warms up enough to sing them for him.


End file.
